My Free Will Astrology Horoscope
PISCES (Feb. 19-March 20): Alice finds her way to Wonderland by falling down a rabbit hole. Dorothy rides to Oz on a tornado. In C.S. Lewis's *The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe,* Lucy stumbles into Narnia via a portal in the back of a large clothes cabinet. In the sequels to all these adventures, however, the heroes must find different ways to access their exotic dreamlands. Alice slips hrough a mirror next time. Dorothy uses a Magic Belt. Lucy leaps into a painting of a schooner that becomes real. Take heed of these precedents, Pisces. A threshold will soon open into a fascinating alternative reality you've enjoyed in the past, but it will not resemble the doorways you've used before.

Well, I'm ready!

The Ongoing Battle for Delilah
I have to say that my daugher Melissa is a real scrapper. She's taking on Highbridge Press for cancelling the publication of her book for a very lame reason and has a lawyer on their tail. They are getting uncomfortable, and if she keeps it up, I'll bet they have no choice but to come around. (Or pay her off; either way, it's OK.) You go, grrl.

Cyberseniors
Well, I've launched myself into the world of seniors online by hosting a page at Cyberseniors.org on "Being the Filler in the Sandwich Generation." Doing so is forcing me to learn some HTML, which I never knew before. So, that's good. And I'm thinking that if the experiment goes and I get some interesting stories, maybe I can collect them for some bigger publication. Ya' never know.

Why Are There Are No Women
Now, I'm new to this blogging thing, but as I link around to check out the Alphas in the various philosophical discussions going on the functioning of the internet in general, and blogging in particular, it seems to me that there are no females pack leaders. I read somewhere (?) that there are even more females than males using the internet, but apparently we don't do it for the same reasons. I see lots of female-founded blogs, but I haven't run across any (yet) that get into the kinds of heavy discussions as Doc Searls or Christopher Locke. Half the time I don't even know what these guys are talking about.

But I am fascinated with how this blogging thing works. And so my next task is going to be to add to my Blogs of Note some of the cool sites that I've stumbled on in my blogworld travels. But that's for tomorrow. The Nyquil is kicking in.

Well, I guess I really don't know why there aren't more women taking the lead in all of the technical, economic, and philosophical discussions about internet issues. I know that I don't because it often seems like so much mental masturbation. I'd rather be doing some creative cooking or knitting or sewing. Or reading. Or ballroom dancing. Or even just freeform blogging. Or maybe, with the time I have left in my life, I don't want to spend it trying to understand and analyze the incredible complexities of those issues, important as they are to how our society of communicators is going to continue to evolve.

But, You go, guys! Boop oop a doop.

Friday Nite Funk
Figured I'd touch base before my Nyquil kicks in. Another January, another sinus infection.

Watched "Dark Angel" and am realizing how much I miss "Nikita," although "Alias" at least tries. But "Nikita" had everything -- dark exotic music, a female lead who really was the equal of the men, including getting beat up periodically -- to say nothing of those sensuously disturbing "Michael" eyes.

So, what's an aging feminist like me doing fantasizing about such cartoon characters? Well, back in the forties and fifties, all there was were Wonder Woman comics. I mean, granted, Brenda Starr and Katie Keane were smart and had careers and all that, but only Diana Prince got a chance to kick ass, well sort of. There must be a part of me that stayed stuck in adolescent arrested development.

I also remember that "The Snow Queen" fairy tale was my favorite. Gerda (I think that was her name) actually was the hero of the story and got to have the adventures and save her little male friend. Not like that wimpy Cinderella. Or at least not like the traditional wimpy Cinderella. My former husband, a writer of the well-produced A Tale of Cinderella created one with a lot more spunk, but she's still not tough enough for my taste.

I was also a big fan of Xena, at least early in the series. I wanted to be her a few Halloweens ago, but decided that, while I'm not in bad shape for someone my age, I'd be better off as Betty Boop -- who, I believe was way ahead of her time. She flew airplanes, lived alone, had a career, ran for president, dressed sexy, had all kinds of adventures etc. etc. back in the forties before no more than a handful of women were doing those things. Boop oop a doop.

I Disagree
Bix has responded to my perspective on journalism with And I think the dictionary is wrong. The idea that any presentation of "facts" can be without interpretation is one of the dangerous myths of journalism.

Well, then, let me explain my position further: I think then, that those who are using certain words need to come to an agreement about how they define these words.

The pages of any newspaper contain any number of stories that are objective and simply-put-forward facts. That's also true of radio and tv news programs. Perhaps this should be called "reporting."

Then, perhaps, there's another level that can be called "journalism" that contains the perspective of the reporter.

And then, again, there's still another level that is "commentary," and that is where the writer conjectures, supposes, opinionates etc.

It seems to me various people are calling it "journalism" when they really mean one of the other two categories.

I find that discussions that don't lead to any conclusions go in circles because the discussees are using their personal definitions for the words they are using. I ran into this a lot in the field of education. Until there are accepted definitions of terms (and that's why we have dictionaries), while discussions are always interesting exercises in writing and thinking -- they aren't really productive. I remember that when I used to write "white papers" for the State Ed Department, I often began with a definition of terms, so that when discussions ensued, the real issues would be addressed and we wouldn't be stuck with each person arguing about something different based on his/her own definition of a certain word. It's amazing how much time was wasted because there were so many conceptions of what "arts-in-education" means. Once we stated what definitions we were using for specific terms, it was easier to move forward with discussions of the real issues.

For deep communication and change to happen, eveyone has to be using the same language -- or at least agree on the meaning of the fundamental terms being discussed.

Now, This Is Too Much Fun
I don't know how I got to this guy's site, but if you click on his site map and go to his Playthings, be prepared to lose track of a good deal of time. You can spend all day exploring this incredible site. Love it!

Journalism vs Commentary
Hmm. I haven't read all of the discussions filling up lots of blogspace lately (I follow some of them from bix's Blog Roll), but I think maybe there needs to be some clarification of what "journalism" is in contrast to "commentary."

The dictionary defines journalism as writing characterized by a direct presentation of facts or description of events without an attempt at interpretation . That requires objective and fair reporting of facts and events. Now, granted, we don't have enough of that these days, but that's a different and the more substantial issue.

Commentary, on the other hand -- which is what most of the blogs and (I think) too many supposed journalists provide -- is personal reflection and comment on what has been put forth by what is supposed to be good, honest "journalism." Personally, I tend to read the editorial/commentary/perspective pages of a newspaper immediately after I read the puported facts on the front page. First I want to know what's going on. Then I want to know what others think about what's going on. And finally, I can go off and think about all of that myself and come to my own conclusions or speculations.

So, good thoughtful and/or creative and/or critical and/or riotous commentary is what people like me need to mentally gnaw, to viscerally digest, and eventually, to turn into commentary of our own. (No shit.)

Love Those Arts
This evening I went with some friends to an exhibit at the Arts Center that

...brings together cutting-edge contemporary art and the industrial heritage of New York State’s Capital Region in a conceptual Call-and-Response based on the premise that both art and industry involve invention and problem-solving as a means of getting from initial idea to final product..

It wasn't at all what I expected, and, as I expected, it reminded me of how exciting it is to stretch one's awareness outside the box. For example, one installation, based on the artist's exploration of the Watervliet Armory (which, I believe, is the oldest continually functioning armory in the country), is a metal two-dimensional topographical construction of Tolkein's Middle Earth, with a street map of 1940s Berlin sort of etched into the surfaces of that construction. It's all suspended upside down from the ceiling, with arcs of chains hanging down that are supposed to simulate the trajectories of bombs.

While, intellectually, I barely "understood" many of the other installations (even when I read the artists' explanations) I certainly responded to them on a totally non-analytical level. Each visually deconstructed the essence of its "industrial partner" and, through the alchemy of art, rendered it mythic. The magic of art. Love it!

Getting the Hang of It
So, OK, I can't import images into a Blogger blog. If I ever get my web site done, I can play with them there. So it goes.

I found a site based in Portland, Maine for cyber seniors. I'm trying to figure out how I can get involved with them somehow. Except I also have been checking in on various blogs listed on the schoolblogs site, and I'm remembering just how stimulating it is to be involved with the learning of young people. Actually, I remembering when b!X lived at home and all of the information I used to absorb just from being around his world of constant exploration. I'm going to do some of my own further reading into those current blogs and then get in contact with some of those people. For example, Laura Shefler, whose sketches -- and more -- are full of such creative energy.

But first I have to go and have my All One vitamin shake for seniors and then take my 85 year old mother out grocery shopping. And then I'm going to iron on some "embellishments" on the black t-shirts I wear for non-formal ballroom dancing .

Meanwhile, I'm waiting to hear how my newly pregnant daughter, who lives outside of Boston is doing, 'cause she's been so nauseous that we haven't been able to get together for the holidays. So, as soon as she's up to it, my mom and I will drive out to Jamaica Plain to visit her (and her husband, of course; he's a mother-in-law's dream).

I'm Psyched
I remembered how to insert a new link in Blogs of Note. Now that's progress.

So my next challenge is figuring out how to insert an image. I guess that means I have to bug bix again. Hey, that's one of the things geeksons are for, right?

I started to put together a web page a while ago (altho' I never finished it), since I learned the basics of FrontPage at my former job. I even designed and maintained an internal staff web page and took the first shot at a web page for my former department, the New York State Office of Cultural Education. It's been redesigned since, but at least I had the experience of getting them online for the first time. I like to take on new projects that force me to learn. Hence, blogging. I just wish I could find other cyber-curious sandwich-generation retired people to link up with. Who knows. I'm still new at this.

So This Is How It Works!
Well, thanks to schoolblogs.com, I'm getting the hang of how this blogging is supposed to work. They link to me; I link to them. That's a start. Now I have to go in and figure out (again) how to add a link in my Blogs of Note list. I'm finally on a learning curve, slow that it is.

Just Another Day
So, with Leonard Cohen's new CD in the background, I scroll through hundreds of blogs in the Blogger directory, scanning for any that might deal with a life in process for more than five decades. This seems to be a world populated by the young and the infantile. There are exceptions, and while many of these seem to be involved in dense and worthy online bloggersations about the process and worthiness of blogging, I'm still convinced it all needs to be a lot more ubiquitous than it is to be important. There are a whole lot of us older folks out here who find it hard to get the hang of it all.

But it all takes up so much time!! Don't these people sleep? Don't they have to take care of anyone but themselves? Do they read anything that's not up on a monitor? Do they live on take-out?

Leonard Cohen is getting old. But he still writes great lyrics. So, where's his place in all of this? Where's mine? And does it matter anyway?

Can't find my Jennifer Warne's "Famous Blue Raincoat" album, speaking of great lyrics. Damn. This year I have to organize all of my stuff. Stuff. Stuff. Stuff. Stuff. Stuff.

May the lights in the Land of Plenty, shine on the turth some day. -- Leonard Cohen

Resolutions
So, here are my New Year's resolutions:
1. Stop bugging b!X about finding paid work.
2. Get out of the apartment every day, even if it's just for a walk around the building.
3. Start doing a personal "Thursday's at Borders" so that I can start to build a new routine for myself. (And I can pick up Metroland and see what's going on around town and actually sit down a read for an hour or so.)
4. Finish editing cwyln's Moya and Michael's novel.

While there are lots of other things that I also should do (like give away all the "work" clothes that I no longer wear), if I can do those four things I probably could change my life for the better.

This is not what I always envisioned my retirement would be. LIving across the hall from my 85-year-old mother so that I can take care of her might be a noble thing to do, but it doesn't allow for my life as I would like it to be. And, given that I don't believe in reincarnation or heaven, this is the only life that I'll ever have. If I choose to play caregiver and do something good for someone else, I need to figure out how to also generate the kind of excitement and stimulation in my life that I always managed to generate before. I need input so that I can again have some creative output.

OK. Emily Dickenson managed to be creative within the confines of some very narrow personal space. Nope, that's not me. I need to engage with a larger world. I hope that there will be still time for me to do that.

Here's hoping for new life in my New Year.

Heart Home Hope
These are the only three words on the inside of a holiday card offered by the Habitat for Humanity. If I were sending out cards, that's the one I would send.

With b!X on the West Coast and pregnant cwyln and her husband on the East Coast, it's just me, my brother, and my mother this year. I miss my offspring mightily this Xmas.

Last night, my mother and I both dreamed about my father, who died on December 26, 1984 from pancreatic cancer, with the three of us by his side. I haven't had a Xmas tree since the one I left undecorated that year in my empty apartment. Whenever my mother and I dream about him, he never talks.

The Winter Solstice is the time to celebrate the Great Mother and her Golden Child, the coming of light to dispel the darkness.

Heart. Home. Hope.

You Can Tell I'm Getting Older
I'm finding that Andy Rooney's column is the first one that I read on the Op Ed page. He holds up an honest mirror to our society in the language of "everyman." Here are some of his comments from today's Albany Times Union:"

Four hundred Taliban soldiers were taken prisoner and stuffed into a container and transported several hours to a prison camp. Many died of suffocation. (Now, why hadn't I read that anywhere else?)

I look at pictures of captured soldiers who were members of the evil Taliban. Do I study them and mutter, 'Kill the bastards!' No, I do not. I say 'Poor bastards they don't look like bad guys. I like their hats. They don't look any different from the guys who captured them. I'll be they're not any different.'

The trouble with me and a lot of Americans is our opinions are fomed by information we get from people trying to form our opinions. We make up our minds based on propaganda, advertising, prejudice, failure to pay attention, and stupidity.

It seems to me that there are a lot of Americans who feel the same way. But we can't be heard over our government's propaganda and advertising.

Big Picture, Little Picture
So, there are some discussions going these days on about the purpose and value of weblogs. Oddly enough, the other night at my bi-monthly group meeting, I mentioned that I had begun a weblog, and I was asked to explain what that was and why I was doing it, and why I just wasn't keeping a journal. As I've said, I've unsuccessfully tried keeping journals before and I write so much slower than I think that I got frustrated and quit. I can type almost as fast as I think (I got used to doing that at the job from which I retired last year, which involved mostly whipping out quick documents for others to share and claim as their own.) So, it's easier to do it on the computer. And why don't I just keep a journal on disk, I was asked. The truth is, I admitted, is that I'm used to writing for an audience. And I like having an audience. Even my poems are usually written with an audience (sometimes of one) in mind. It's why I ballroom dance. I'm a performer at heart. I need ways to say to the world: this is who I am. Look at me. Pay attention. It seems to me that that's at the heart of why everyone else who keeps a blog does so. In a world where we all have to live up to expectations and assume roles for survival purposes (our own and others) -- caregiver, mother, employee, citizen -- it's so satisfying to have a place where one can BE who one is. Or in some cases, where one can BE who one wants to BE. It really doesn't matter. We can create who we want to be or be creative with who we are. Either way, one has an identity, a voice. In a way, it's kind of a new art form -- or at least it can evolve in some cases into such. How cool is that!

Still Trying
I'm still trying to figure out how to do include all of the things on this site that I want to include, in particular a Navigation list to other blogs. I just haven't figured out yet how to do it on this template.

Since bix linked to me from his site, I noticed that at least one other person picked up up and how links to me from her site. So, now I feel compelled to to do the hard work and figure this out. How the hell do I put in a link to contact me???

Twenty years ago -- even ten years ago -- this all would have been a piece of cake, both to find the time to and to figure out how to do it. But, as my long-dead grandmother used to say in Polish" "Staroszcz nie radoszcz." (Getting old ain't no fun.)

I am finding this whole blogging thing curiously engaging, since I've never been able to write fast enough to keep a journal. But I type really fast, so this might well wind up being my legacy to the world at large (like it cares!). But I do care. About a lot of things. And this is one place that I can record what's on my mind, in my heart, and stuck in my craw. So, look out, cyberworld, here I come.

I'm in a group of 6 that meets twice a month -- all aging activists from the 70s and all, except me, MDs or therapists. Mostly we talk about what's going on -- the war -- and our personal responses to it and its archetypically apocalyptic nature. Last time we struggled with the fact that, while the press prints our letters to the editor as a perfunctory nod to including dissenting opinion, in truth, they are committed to furthering the party line. We know nothing about how many people really have died in Afghanistan because, unlike the Vietnam War, we have none of our troops own coming back in body bag and after body bag. We speculated on why there are not the kinds of protests that there were during Vietnan -- think perhaps because those protesters (now in their 40s and 50s and 60s) either have been co-opted by the system, or are struggling to raise families and just survive, or are just worn out from standing up for civil liberties all of these years. And maybe the younger folks have other priorities as well or don't care. And maybe it's more because we have no body bags of our own to really bring the horror of it home on a national scale. (Although there actually have been protests, but the press doesn't cover those. Amy Goodman was here speaking at RPI in Troy recently, and there were more than a thousand people there; but the artsy Metroland was the only paper that even mentioned that.)

We also talked about the courses in "civics" that we (older folks) had as school kids. We learned about the ideals of democracy, we learned how a democratic government IS SUPPOSED to work. Whatever patriotism we felt was based on the ideals that we believed we could achieve as American. We speculated that maybe that helped fuel the protesters back in the 70s. They saw those ideals being totally disregarded. Kids today are not taught "civics," not given an opportunity to really explore -- philosophically and practically -- the kind of democratic system to which Americans used to aspire and strive toward. Now the driving force behind government is not the higher ideals of democracy but rather the base pleasures of consumerism.

We feel helpless and hopeless and totally disempowered -- unlike the way we felt thirty something years ago, when we thought that our voices would be heard, that we could change the world. It often seems that the younger people of today are willing to work very hard for "better lives" for themselves but are totally oblivious to -- or rather not be bothered with -- working hard to change the world for the better. Someone referred to an recent article in some national magazine about the "best and brightest students" in the top universities having that attitude. And these are the people who will be our government and business leaders in the next generation.

We wished in a way that there could be a revolution in this country, but we don't think it will happen. Some of us think that this is really the beginning of the end of the hopes and dreams of democracy. We all send emails and sign petitions etc. etc. etc. But it doesn't matter. We have no power.